A/N: Hello, hello, all! Contrary to popular belief, I am not dead.

We now return to our scheduled program. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Ten: I DON'T SING WITH PSYCHOS

HENRY

As far as Henry was concerned, time wasn't just strange down in the studio depths. It was slow. Especially when waiting to rescue his wife. Then it crawled. Like an inchworm.

Audrey fell asleep instantly after restoring Sammy's sanity. The others hung on for a bit longer, but eventually, Tom and Allison both yawned and disappeared around the corner.

Sammy managed a few minutes of conversation with Henry. They sat in silence for a moment, after Henry had explained the last forty-five years.

"Well," Sammy groaned, and rubbed at his temple with long black fingers. "I wish I'd never started drinking the blasted black concoction in the first place. All that, I was right in the middle, and I don't remember a bit of it. Perhaps it's just as well."

Henry blinked at his friend. "You drank ink?"

"Joey caused an 'accident'," Sammy growled. "Then I couldn't stop. Connor will tell you, I stole buckets of the stuff from him. When Joey flooded the Studio, I felt relief." He snorted. "Followed by panic. Drowning is drowning, whether it's water or ink."

Henry winced. "That… sounds terrible."

"Tell me about it," Sammy said, wryly. He sighed. "I suppose I thought the Demon would rescue me, for some misguided reason. Perhaps because we'd all been working so hard to save the company. That demon danced in my dreams at night… and then all day, when I stopped sleeping. Somewhere in my psychotic mind, I thought he was the solution to all our problems. Which translated into the theory that he'd save me from the ink."

"And how'd that work out for you?" Henry asked, trying to hide his smile.

Sammy shot him a glare. "Hilarious. I see you kept your sense of humor."

"Says the man who sounds the exact same as the day I left," Henry shot back, and they both chuckled.

His old friend scanned the room. A flicker of… something, passed across Sammy's glossy face.

"Are you all right?" Henry asked, quietly.

Sammy's sigh came from deep in his chest. "I can't reach the Lost Ones."

Henry blinked at the man in front of him.

"I haven't been able to for some time," Sammy mused. "Now that I can think again… many cycles have passed, I believe. But I used to be able to ask them things, get a general consensus of their current status. It's all muddled now, absolute gibberish when I feel for them." He hesitated, as if to say something else, and fell silent again.

Henry nodded, slowly, not sure what to say.

Sammy yawned, wide, and then blinked. "I think… are heavy eyes and a general fatigue indicators of tiredness? Because I… think I could sleep."

Henry grinned, mentally shrugging off his concern. "I'd say forty-five years without sleep could do a number on you. Go ahead."

Sammy sighed and tugged the blanket up around his shoulders, throwing a look toward the corner where his broken mask lay. "Henry? That daughter of yours… I know it's all worked out for the best." He stood and turned toward the pile of sacks in the corner, then paused. "But we've all been corrupted, one way or another, by our time down here. Leave her here much longer… even the purest of hearts can be blackened."

Henry felt his throat tighten. He waited until Sammy had lowered himself onto the makeshift bed, then met his eyes. "I know you're right. Which is why we're not staying."

Sammy yawned again, his glowing eyes closing as he laid back. "Excellent."

He was gone in a moment, drifting into sleep.

Henry watched him breathe deep for a moment longer, memories flickering in his mind: Sammy grumbling about an animation, Sammy humming at his desk, Sammy laughing over a beer, eyes clear and the furrow in his brow smoothed out for a moment.

The early days, Henry thought with a pang. When we all slept, and laughed.

When our dream was Joey's, too.

Henry shook out his shoulders and stood. He glanced around the corner at Tom and Allison, curled up tight together in their alcove. Henry smiled and slipped away quietly, ducking in to check on Audrey.

She breathed deeply, the ink around her glimmering in the dim light. Henry knelt by her bed and tucked her hair behind her ears, then traced a finger over her cheek, taking comfort from the feel of her skin. If any of us make it out, please, God above. Let it be Audrey.

Henry rose. He had time on his hands, and he meant to use it.

Allison's brush lay in a pail by the door, and Henry picked it up, hefting it. He began to paint.

The walls were mostly filled, but here and there, spaces were left to be filled. Henry finished out the walls with the most cheer he could muster, though he found it difficult to surpass Allison's THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE.

And then, when the walls and the columns and even the boards over what had once been his prison were decorated to the last inch with dancing figures and smiling characters, he began his exercises.

As he bent, the warm ink curled through his cold body. Henry took a deep breath and moved into another set of his exercises, a set of movements he'd developed to tamp down on his ink's old unpredictability.

He could have sworn the dark liquid had a mind of its own sometimes, especially in the beginning: at the strangest moments, and when he'd dropped into fitful sleep, he'd feel himself begin to liquefy. A daily terror to overcome, Henry thought grimly, and stretched up as high as he could.

But unlike before, his ink responded perfectly. Without a moment's hesitation, or ripple, or change.

And he had color, without even having to soak in the sun.

Henry nearly laughed out loud, but stopped himself before he woke someone up. He swung his arms down and around. Maybe Audrey's ink and sunlight have some connection, he mused. After all, sunlight had been the only thing to restore his color when he'd staggered out of the studio literally black-and-white. Linda had shrieked when she'd seen him - something they'd agreed was perfectly reasonable, but Henry was still glad he'd been able to fix it somehow.

Dark ink and shadows? Gold ink and sunlight? Henry dropped into a lunge. Slowly, he lowered his hands to the floor and closed his eyes. Here goes.

One advantage of ink was that it lent far, far more strength than a human body- with a little more besides, but he didn't want to test that at the minute. Carefully, Henry pulled his legs up and, in one fluid motion, flipped upside down, standing on his hands. Then he released one hand and stretched it out to the side, balancing on his other palm, eyes still closed.

Henry grinned. This was a small part of what made the ink - well, not exactly worth it, but at least more enjoyable. He'd only been able to add in this part of the exercises after ten years of practice. Henry could feel the golden ink twist around his limbs, containing the dark, and sighed, thankful again for Audrey's miraculous power.

There was movement beyond his vision, and Henry pushed off the floor, twisting upright easily. He inhaled and looked up to find Audrey in the doorway.

Something is wrong.

Audrey's mouth hung open, slack. Her legs shook a little. Her arms hung limp by her side, but her right hand twisted and writhed, turning on its own, the black liquid in it seething and angry, a tiny glint of gold drowning in the ink.

Henry knew that feeling, how the cold writhed where veins had once been, feeling wrong. He lunged toward her, wrapping his hands around her upper arms, and her eyes flew open- one eye glazed, unseeing, its normal near-black hue, and the other glowing gold, shining, staring straight through him.

"Audrey," Henry said, his voice tight. "Audrey, wake up, sweet girl, Audrey-"

Audrey gasped and cried out, a tight shudder wracking her tiny frame under his hands. With a shuddering breath, she collapsed.

Henry caught her up and pulled her in tight, rubbing a hand on her back. "Hey, hey, hey," he murmured in her ear. "I've got you."

She sighed, and the last of the terror shuddered through her and through Henry. "Daddy."

Henry pulled her back, just a little, silently cursing Joey Drew with all the fires of a real Hell for what his old partner had done to his child.

"Thsnk crpingp m'rm," she mumbled into his shoulder.

Henry snorted, and Audrey turned her head, freeing her mouth. "The ink's creeping up my arm," she whispered.

Henry stilled. "What?"

Audrey wriggled back from him a little and tugged her right sleep to her upper arm, exposing black ink, twisting up to just above the elbow. Henry reached out and brushed his fingers over where the ink disappeared into her skin, his artist's eye noting the smooth transition where the black melted away, and how gold flickered where his ink brushed hers. "It wasn't like that before? It looked okay before you were working on Sammy."

Audrey shook her head, looking up at him in a silent appeal for help. "It only reached to my wrist before Allison. It got a little bit bigger after, but it wasn't this bad. I think… I think it gets worse-"

"When you've healed someone?" Henry asked quietly, and had to bite back the urge to throw something, or let the anger in his core explode, when she nodded, terror in her eyes.

"Drey. Hey. Sweet girl." He blew a gust of air into her face, knocking away some hair and making her giggle. They both sobered quickly.

Henry stared into Audrey's eyes. "You know you're probably the only one who can save Momma."

Audrey swallowed. She nodded. "I can still do it, Daddy."

Henry narrowed his eyes. "You sure? Maybe we should wait-"

Audrey shook her head, halting his thoughts. "I… don't think good things would happen. If we wait." Her eyes flickered, but her gaze stayed steady on his. "And I wanna do this, Daddy. I want Momma back."

Henry released a burst of air. I hate this.

But I - we - can't lose Linda.

Henry watched his daughter for a moment longer, then nodded. "All right. But you stop before it reaches your shoulder, all right?" He sighed. "I can't lose you either."

Audrey threw her arms around his neck and clung on tightly. Henry smiled into her hair.

Far cry from the kitchen at home, he thought, but the same idea. And the same hope. Rescue Linda.

Henry rolled his shoulders and looked around Tom into the hallway beyond. Tom gave a small snort and gently shoved him back with one hand, swinging his newly-recovered axe in the other.

"Stein," his friend grumbled. "Easy."

Henry shook his head - still not used to his voice - and glanced back at the others.

Allison stood, sword on her shoulder. Her face lit up when Tom gave it back. Her other hand rested gently on Audrey's back, and Henry smiled. Drey will be safe.

Audrey herself held still, though her gaze wandered around the walls, unfocused. Henry knew she was searching for anything golden, any messages hidden in the walls.

Sammy shuffled next to Allison. Henry had tried to persuade him to stay in the hideout, but he'd refused, citing both his sway over the ink creatures of the lower studios and his 'debt'. Sammy apparently felt that he needed to atone for his lunacy, a belief Henry took with a grain of salt.

Linda can deal with it, he thought, forcing a little more cheer into his thoughts. She's amazing with people. Drawings are easier. Though everyone down here seems to be a bit of both.

With a shake, Henry brought himself back to the present. Sammy was staring at him, as concerned an expression as his inky face could manage. Henry shrugged at him and turned back to Tom, who'd already moved into the hallway.

They were on Level K. Audrey's arrows had led them to a janitorial stairwell, sparsely populated with Searchers and Lost Ones. The Searchers dispersed with a swing of Tom's board, and Sammy's presence forced the Lost Ones into a retreat.

"My sheep," Sammy'd said with a small smile. "Or, the Prophet's flock." He'd sighed, shaking his head. "I was a terrible shepherd. A wonder they didn't kill me right off."

Tom halted at a corner and motioned for Henry to come forward. They both peered around the corridor, and then looked back at Audrey. She shook her head and pointed at a blank wall.

Henry frowned and walked back to her. Audrey spoke softly. "The message says she's on the other side of the floor. She can't hear us yet."

"The Demon might," Tom muttered.

Audrey shook her head, black hair swishing through the air. "He's not close. I can feel when he is."

Henry stifled a huff at that. "So what's the plan?"

Allison leaned in closely. Henry caught the small twist of her mouth, the only outward indication that she was afraid. "I'll sing. I can catch her attention immediately."

Tom growled softly, but after a moment, nodded.

"We can't all be in the hallway," Sammy objected. "She'll panic and run."

"You don't know Linda," Henry muttered back. He rubbed a hand on his face. "But that's a good point."

Audrey pointed at the corner. "There's a room on that corridor with no door. I can hide in there, with Tom and Sammy. Allison can stand in the hallway- it's a dead end, so Alice… can only come one way."

They all stared at her, open-mouthed. Tom stepped to the corner again and peered around it, then nodded. "She's right. That's all true."

"How did you know that?" Henry asked Audrey in a whisper. "I don't even remember this."

Audrey blinked, uncertainty washing across her face for a moment. "I… the dreams, I think."

Tom hefted his weapon. "Let's clear it."

"Wait," Allison said, halting him in his tracks. "Audrey. Where will your father hide?"

Audrey hesitated. "I don't know," she whispered. "I can't remember?" She blinked up at Henry with growing fear. "I know everything else. Why can't I remember?"

Henry touched her shoulder gently, to reassure her, and peeked around the corner. His eyes flickered over the pools of ink on the ground, the boards at the end of the hall, the hole in the ceiling.

The hole in the ceiling. Henry eyed the hole- huge, gaping and dark. Hard to get up… but perfect. I'd just have to time the fall perfectly. And stay completely still until then. Piece of cake.

Henry turned, running a hand through his inky hair, and knelt on the floor. He looked around. "Right. Here's the plan."

Henry glanced down from his vantage point. He noted the brief flicker of movement inside a door on the right side of the hallway, just until it whisked out of sight. Stay hidden till I call you, Drey, and not a moment more. And keep her safe, Tom, Sammy. Please.

Down below in the center of the hallway, Allison shifted the Gent pipe to her right hand- she'd given her sword to Tom, in fear that she'd hurt Linda- and glanced up at him, her lips tight, but her face composed. Henry glanced at the door again, looked back and nodded.

Allison swallowed, took a deep breath, and opened her mouth. Her voice, shaky for the first few bars, steadied and strengthened, bouncing off the walls and filling the hallway with song.

"I'm the cutest little angel, sent from above, and I know just how to swing. I got a bright little halo, and I'm filled with love-"

A distant wail cut against the smooth sound of Allison's voice, and she faltered for a moment. Henry saw her eyes glitter.

"I'm Alice Angel!"

The wail strengthened. Allison widened her stance and launched into the next verse.

"I'm the hit of the party, I'm the belle of the ball, I'm the toast of every town. Just one little dance, and I know you'll fall- I'm Alice Angel!"

Henry almost smiled when Allison threw extra bounce into the last three words.

The wail grew louder. It now echoed less, drawing closer by the moment, and Henry could make out a strange note in it. He turned his head, looking back at the door, silently praying the shadow of the nearby light hid him well.

Allison paused for a moment, and Henry glanced back, startled to see gold light tracing its way back through her arms and shoulders. Allison's eyes glowed. Above her head, a golden halo drew itself into existence.

"I ain't no flapper, I'm a classy dish, and boy, can this girl sing. This gal can grant your every wish…"

Henry whipped his head around at the falter in Allison's note.

A dark figure loomed in the entrance to the hall. A woman, shrouded in darkness, a halo broken in two tilted on each side of her head over her shattered horns, visible in silhouette. A woman startlingly silent for a brief moment. Henry could feel despair washing off her, pouring like the dark liquid that made up her body.

The dark angel stepped forward into the light of a flickering lightbulb, and Henry, shrouded in darkness, felt despair of his own crawl into his throat and choke off his air. He knew that face, despite the hollow sockets and the pouring ink tears. He knew the curve of her nose, her high cheekbones, the grace of her movements in between jerky staggers.

Linda.

A tiny flash of movement to the side, through the door- Audrey watched, too, and Henry filled his lungs. Focus on the goal. Fear is a killer.

Just like in the War, he thought, and took one more deep, inaudible breath. He sent up a prayer and redoubled his grip on the rafters. One shot.

The Broken Alice stepped forward, still in the light, staring at her golden counterpart. Henry begged Allison silently to do something, to propel his wife forward, to bring her within range.

Allison took a deep, ragged breath, and her last five notes crashed through the hallway, rippling with golden power.

"I'm Alice Angel!"

Broken Linda screamed- one human wail, high and painful, and one deep monstrous roar, grating and angry.

She leapt forward with all the power of a twisted soul, lifting black talons high to slash through the golden angel. Allison lifted her pipe, a determined grimace on her face. Her dark counterpart - Linda! - tore through the hall just under Henry.

He let go. With all eleven of his hands.

TO BE CONTINUED

/\/\/\

A/N: Yes, I live. No, I was not kidnapped. But these first two weeks back at school have been quite the wild ride. Hey, last semester, right? Hallelujah. I'm ready to be out of here.

Sorry for the cliffhanger (not really, but token apology for y'all). I have officially started a new clinical rotation and will be working two shifts this week, on top of schoolwork, group projects and a lot of weird decisions to make. So if I haven't uploaded the follow up by Thursday - my sincerest apologies, but don't be shocked.

Anyways. You have to wonder - how far should a man go to save his family... and how far is too far?

See y'all on the other side of this week!

Godspeed,

-Sam :')